I started writing this when it was the 19th of January, 2015 and finally finished it on the night of the 11th of December of the same year. It's finally being published on the 3rd of July, 2016, once I got to my new home, miles away from where I was born. This post is not a piece I wrote from the back on my mind just today or two days before, it is actually a journal that I kept writing on from time to time, whenever I felt like it, so, I excuse myself for the lack of cohesiveness. Also I excuse myself for the lack of my well-adorned English. Some of the words you'll read here, you may think are cheesy, foolishly romantic and or silly, and some of them may be, but I write this as a way of letting people know how it feels, at least for me, to say a long goodbye. I'm not the first nor the last person to experience this sort of thing, you may think I may be overreacting or dragging attention, but I just thought it'd be nice to get my feelings out on paper, just to have something I can look back to so I can see how it all started.
And so my story begins.
See... the thing with moving away for good is tricky, specially if you, like me, basically lived your whole life in the same house. When you see your place for the last time you're starting to accept that you're saying goodbye to all of your memories there, all of the posters in your room are off, with the walls left with that sticky plaque of paste they usually leave on and that you have to paint over to hide. All of your scratches and doodles in the walls are gone too. And so as the shadow you used to cast when you were sleeping in your bed leaving a pool of saliva on your pillow... we all do it, don't deny it, it's okay. All of your hidden places for the cigarettes and the snacks you devour every couple of nights are gone too, and so as all the fun you used to have jumping in your bed, in your parents' and in your sister's. I've lived more than 12 years in the same place, a little apartment that was located right between tranquility and pandemonium, a place where I lived my whole teenage years and the beginning of my young adulthood, in the same bedroom where all my existential crisis, my sadness, depression, joy, laughter and lust took place. The same exact place that watched me go from a chubby, awkward kid to the mess of the young adult that doesn't have his shit together that I am right now. So, by now you can imagine how surreal it was for me to say goodbye, not hard, just surreal, to let go of something that's so intertwined within you.
To be completely honest, for me it was never that hard to leave in the first place. It wasn't hard to let go because I just never felt so emotionally bounded to the place I was so much that it would break my heart to watch it all go away once and for all. The only hard thing for me was to leave my friends and parents behind, but, like everything in life, there was another side to my goodbyes, a side that actually made me feel happy... I was finally cutting off all of the bad connections I used to have. All of the old friends that never really clicked but I was forced to catch up with, the acquaintances that I never actually liked, the people that never really cared that much and that I never really needed. All of that, gone, finally. I was glad to start over with a cleaner contact list, and if you're anything like me, you're never really gonna be heartbroken at the fact that you're leaving a place that you felt was never good enough for you in the first place.
I used to live in Venezuela, a country once rich and beautiful on every corner, but nonetheless, a place with a bad fate, a terrible fate that started to pulled me away from it ever since I can remember. Since I was very little I never felt quite identified, I remember I was always away from everything, stuck on a make-believe completely made out of aspirations and fascination for the outside world. I used to daydream everyday for the moment I was finally going to be able to leave, thinking about new ideals, new sights and my own perfect world out of the little piece of hell I was living in, and finally, when it happened (and it happened in the most unpredictable way possible), when I got the chance to leave, I did it with no hard feelings, just excitement. Mine is not a typical venezuelan-escape story (like the thousands there are because of the political and social difficulties), mine's a story of never being able to completely feel like I belonged.
Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I was suffering, I wasn't being tortured, I was just not feeling it. I don't resent any of the moments I spent where I grew up in, I still find it within my heart to feel that Venezuela is a gorgeous place, a place of greatness and joyfulness despite all of the bad things that are currently happening right now (and if you don't know what's happening, you should just google Venezuela. All of the information you need will be right there with no effort). When I look back and see all of the things I did, all of the places I went, all of the memories I created, I feel more than happy to say that all of those came from that little piece of earth in South America. I'm just another "big fish, little pond" kind of story.
Getting back to the point of leaving your friends. When you say goodbye for the last time, it's unbelievably piercing, it feels a deep hollow starts creeping into you by the minute and it never stops, the feeling may stop for a while, but oh, It'll come back, sometimes hard, sometimes low, especially on the weekends, when you have nothing more to do than watch a movie or binge-watch that Netflix series all by yourself. It'll come and it'll trigger with the simplest things, perhaps walking on the street, taking the train, or in the face of someone that looks just like one of your friends.
When you move away from your loved ones, you don't only miss the presence of the human beings that are the recipients of your inside jokes, tears, honesty and love, you miss the times that flew by in their presence, the memories, the music you shared, the awful music you used to share, the honest, deep talks at 3 am, the books they gave you, the books you gave them, the parties you threw, the beers you chugged, the cheap vodka shots, the cheap tequila shots, the casual joints, the nights at the gay disco bar you used to go before it turned into a shithole, the movies you fell asleep with, the monkey business you did in public, the foolishness and the shared silences, the kisses on the cheeks, the drunk kisses on the mouth, the short hugs and the long, heartfelt hugs that gave you the utmost comfort when something bad happened, the mornings you spent together, the breakfasts and the brunches, the lunches and the dinners. Throw all of that up in your bags when you're packing, do not leave anything behind because it isn't heavy at all, and it'll be of way more use than your light jacket on a chilly day. In fact, steal something from them, a book, a fake flower, a ring, anything that reminds you of them, they won't get mad at you, I promise, I did it (sorrynotsorry).
When you go away, far far away, and when you have the certainty you won't come back in a long while, your circles begin to shrink. It starts maybe within the course of months, a year if you're lucky, but it will happen. Conversations won't happen as often, you'll each go your way, creating life as you walk by, missing each other, it is sadly meant to happen, but know this, when your circle can't get any tinier, the people inside of them are the ones you want to keep around forever, because no matter what, they stayed, and most importantly, you stayed, and that's truly the way that you value a friendship. Let go of people who you don't feel attracted to anymore, leave them be and gravitate towards those that still make you laugh and you still make jokes with. Those are the people you'll want to see again, and again until forever.
As of right now, I can truly say that moving and being by yourself changes you, deeply, in a way that nothing will ever change you. Personally, I started thinking more about life, about humanity and the human experience, about feelings, empathy, relationships, destiny, the future and the uncertainty of our beings. I've changed so much in the course of just a few months that is crazy to go back and read all of my other posts that I published in 2014 or 2015. But all in all, that is good. Change is good. Embrace it with your whole being because we all deserve our own paths and no paths are alike, we only have ours. Fear is the virus we can scape. Let go of it. Let go for the sake of expanding your mind and begin an adventure. Let go for your own sake.
I still don't know where life's gonna take me, and I still don't feel like I've found a place where I can call home, but so far, I'm gonna let the flow take me or swim against it when I feel like I have to. Because one thing I've learned from all this is that sometimes you just gotta let it be and enjoy the ride, and others, you just have to hop on the driver's seat and take control. Life's a balance between both of those situations, of pulling in and letting go. Enjoy the ride, because once you're out on the wilderness, it's gonna get a hell more exciting than what you're used to.
And so my story begins.
I used to live in Venezuela, a country once rich and beautiful on every corner, but nonetheless, a place with a bad fate, a terrible fate that started to pulled me away from it ever since I can remember. Since I was very little I never felt quite identified, I remember I was always away from everything, stuck on a make-believe completely made out of aspirations and fascination for the outside world. I used to daydream everyday for the moment I was finally going to be able to leave, thinking about new ideals, new sights and my own perfect world out of the little piece of hell I was living in, and finally, when it happened (and it happened in the most unpredictable way possible), when I got the chance to leave, I did it with no hard feelings, just excitement. Mine is not a typical venezuelan-escape story (like the thousands there are because of the political and social difficulties), mine's a story of never being able to completely feel like I belonged.
Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I was suffering, I wasn't being tortured, I was just not feeling it. I don't resent any of the moments I spent where I grew up in, I still find it within my heart to feel that Venezuela is a gorgeous place, a place of greatness and joyfulness despite all of the bad things that are currently happening right now (and if you don't know what's happening, you should just google Venezuela. All of the information you need will be right there with no effort). When I look back and see all of the things I did, all of the places I went, all of the memories I created, I feel more than happy to say that all of those came from that little piece of earth in South America. I'm just another "big fish, little pond" kind of story.
Getting back to the point of leaving your friends. When you say goodbye for the last time, it's unbelievably piercing, it feels a deep hollow starts creeping into you by the minute and it never stops, the feeling may stop for a while, but oh, It'll come back, sometimes hard, sometimes low, especially on the weekends, when you have nothing more to do than watch a movie or binge-watch that Netflix series all by yourself. It'll come and it'll trigger with the simplest things, perhaps walking on the street, taking the train, or in the face of someone that looks just like one of your friends.
When you move away from your loved ones, you don't only miss the presence of the human beings that are the recipients of your inside jokes, tears, honesty and love, you miss the times that flew by in their presence, the memories, the music you shared, the awful music you used to share, the honest, deep talks at 3 am, the books they gave you, the books you gave them, the parties you threw, the beers you chugged, the cheap vodka shots, the cheap tequila shots, the casual joints, the nights at the gay disco bar you used to go before it turned into a shithole, the movies you fell asleep with, the monkey business you did in public, the foolishness and the shared silences, the kisses on the cheeks, the drunk kisses on the mouth, the short hugs and the long, heartfelt hugs that gave you the utmost comfort when something bad happened, the mornings you spent together, the breakfasts and the brunches, the lunches and the dinners. Throw all of that up in your bags when you're packing, do not leave anything behind because it isn't heavy at all, and it'll be of way more use than your light jacket on a chilly day. In fact, steal something from them, a book, a fake flower, a ring, anything that reminds you of them, they won't get mad at you, I promise, I did it (sorrynotsorry).
When you go away, far far away, and when you have the certainty you won't come back in a long while, your circles begin to shrink. It starts maybe within the course of months, a year if you're lucky, but it will happen. Conversations won't happen as often, you'll each go your way, creating life as you walk by, missing each other, it is sadly meant to happen, but know this, when your circle can't get any tinier, the people inside of them are the ones you want to keep around forever, because no matter what, they stayed, and most importantly, you stayed, and that's truly the way that you value a friendship. Let go of people who you don't feel attracted to anymore, leave them be and gravitate towards those that still make you laugh and you still make jokes with. Those are the people you'll want to see again, and again until forever.
As of right now, I can truly say that moving and being by yourself changes you, deeply, in a way that nothing will ever change you. Personally, I started thinking more about life, about humanity and the human experience, about feelings, empathy, relationships, destiny, the future and the uncertainty of our beings. I've changed so much in the course of just a few months that is crazy to go back and read all of my other posts that I published in 2014 or 2015. But all in all, that is good. Change is good. Embrace it with your whole being because we all deserve our own paths and no paths are alike, we only have ours. Fear is the virus we can scape. Let go of it. Let go for the sake of expanding your mind and begin an adventure. Let go for your own sake.
I still don't know where life's gonna take me, and I still don't feel like I've found a place where I can call home, but so far, I'm gonna let the flow take me or swim against it when I feel like I have to. Because one thing I've learned from all this is that sometimes you just gotta let it be and enjoy the ride, and others, you just have to hop on the driver's seat and take control. Life's a balance between both of those situations, of pulling in and letting go. Enjoy the ride, because once you're out on the wilderness, it's gonna get a hell more exciting than what you're used to.
And so my story begins.
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